I left for there,
then left for here
with an idea
that I hold dear.

An open page to
capture meanings,
dreamings - everything
and nothing.

A turning, leafing,
gentle freedom, to
learn of seeing
without believing.

A dreary world
of nothing lost,
robust for being
of no real cost.

It worked and
whirred, across
the answers - without
question. Until

it asked for nothing
more, by holding on
with tooth and claw -
to what it was to be.

That savage task,
of asking, please
for more was rasping,
and nobody knew.

Nobody knows
now where it went
or what it was that
all was spent.

Unless, they do
and that was the cost,
for it simply to hold
it's stay, but lost.

Now no more is left of it,
from here, from there -
it is all torn apart from
that drifting wish

for an open page again
to appear, from nowhere
now it has to rear.

Forget it, for fear.

by Gareth Rosser